


Short Back and Sides

by tellezara



Category: Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-26
Updated: 2010-01-26
Packaged: 2017-11-23 18:11:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/625145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tellezara/pseuds/tellezara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miles goes to get his usual haircut and finds that he has a new stylist, who seems to have more in mind than just cutting his hair...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Short Back and Sides

  
"It's normally a woman who cuts my hair," Miles insisted as he sat himself on the salon chair.

"Uh-huh," the stylist replied, holding out the baggy smock for Miles to put his arms into. "Well, today, you've got me - something a bit different, eh?"

Miles put his arms in the smock, looking back down the stairs at the empty floor of the salon. It was dark outside and he could hear the rain on the windows. Most other hairdressing salons were shut by the time he left work - this was the one of the few that catered to the late finishers wanting a quick cut on the way home. And did a good job of it. Well, they always had before now - but that was because he had his own stylist, Rachel, who cut his hair in the way he preferred, and had done so for the last year and a half. Today, however, she wasn't there. He looked in the mirror at the stylist, who was standing behind him and fastening the smock at the back. The man had longish, spiked back hair and a professional-looking white tunic on, the top pocket of which had three pairs of scissors in and a long comb. His face had a nonchalant, almost smirking look about it, that Miles wasn't sure he liked.

"What happened to Rachel?" he asked. "Isn't she normally here on a Thursday?"

Deft fingers tied the smock so it was flush against his neck without being choking. "Oh, she's on maternity leave. Won't be back till next year some time."

Those breezy words were the final nail in the coffin. Miles hadn't even realised she was pregnant, which showed how much he really paid attention to their chitchat as she clipped his hair. He groaned inwardly - now he would have to find another hairdresser. That was always the way; find a good one and then they would leave.

"What was that face for?"

"Er," Miles straightened up a little, "what face?"

"The one you just made at the mirror."

In the mirror Miles could see the indignant look on the stylist's face, which told him he'd been well and truly caught out in his subconscious expression of disgruntlement.

"Well, that is to say," Miles hesitated - he did still _want_ a haircut, after all.

"You think I won't do as good a job of your hair?" the stylist's question had an edge as sharp as his scissors.  
Miles recognised he'd dug a spectacularly deep hole for himself - there wasn't much else he could do now to save face, other than admit the truth.

"Yes," he replied carefully. "But wouldn't you feel the same, if you had a stylist you were happy with who was replaced by an unknown quantity?"

He watched the man in the mirror. The stylist frowned, considering this, then a smile spread across his face and he laughed.

"A fair point, sir, a fair point indeed! In that case, I've got to prove myself, haven't I?"

"...I suppose you could say that." Miles was a bit unnerved by the stylist's change of attitude - he had been half-expecting the man to chase him out of the salon, fiendish scissors snapping inches away from his head.

"Well, let me make you an offer you can't refuse." The stylist leaned on Miles' shoulder, bending down so his head was level with that of his customer's. "Free wash, cut and blowdry," he waggled a finger next to Miles' head. "If you're happy with the result, then I'll look after your hair until Rachel comes back. If you're not happy, well, I suppose that's just too bad."

Miles dropped his shoulder, trying to shake off the stylist's arm.

"That's just too bad?" he repeated. "Not exactly much recompense if you leave me looking like a haystack, is it? And can you even make those sorts of offers without your manager here?"

The man stood up, taking his arm away. He put one hand on his hip, tilting his head to one side to regard his customer in the mirror with a lopsided smile.

"Sheesh, you don't cut a guy much of a break, do you?" he said. "I'm offering you a good deal if you're happy with the result, and you can only think of the worst case scenario. If Rachel didn't leave you looking like a haystack, then I certainly won't. After all, I trained her."

With this, it occurred to Miles that no other hairdresser he'd seen in the salon had ever worn a tunic like the one the stylist had on. Realisation finally dawned.

"You're... the owner of this salon?" he said slowly, feeling his stomach sinking right down to the floor and crawling away to hide in a corner of shame. Oh, what a _gaffe_.

"Yup, that'll be me - Phoenix is the name. Phoenix Cuts, geddit?" Phoenix hooked a pair of scissors out of the top pocket of his tunic, dangling it between thumb and forefinger and swinging it in a loose arc. "But what's in a name, huh? My track record surely falls flat in the face of your mighty judgement. So let's start with a clean slate, eh? My offer still stands. Free wash, cut and blowdry. You gonna take it?"  
"Erm, very well." There wasn't any other answer Miles could give, really. Not if he ever wanted to come back here again.

"Ahhh, I've won you over!" Phoenix pocketed his scissors, rubbing his hands together with a gleeful grin that Miles found somewhat disturbing. "Let us begin, then." He moved so he was standing directly behind Miles, hands hovering either side of Miles' head, sizing it up. "Oh, and remind me of your name, while we're at it. If you're getting the full shebang I'm not going to stand here calling you 'sir' all the way through it. That'd just be ridiculous."

"It's Edgeworth."

There was a silence in response to this. Phoenix was giving him a quizzical look in the mirror, clearly expecting more.

"Miles Edgeworth," he added, reluctantly.

"Hmm." Phoenix seemed to ponder this for a moment. "Right then... Miles," the name rolled off his tongue, making the most of single syllable it consisted of. He then placed his palms gently against the side of Miles' head, straightening it up a little so Miles was looking straight at his own reflection in the mirror. "Let me… assess you. So I can plan my cut."

He moved his palms downwards, his fingers tracing the lie of his hair. The look on his face was an absent one, Miles could see in the mirror. It seemed his attention was directed towards the feel of the hair beneath his fingers. They brushed over his ears, a light pressure that left behind a residual tingle, and moved back towards the sensitive nape of his neck, following the diagonal hairline that was a little blurred by overgrowth over the last two months. Miles shivered as Phoenix's fingers hit that area, he couldn't help it, and with that he felt the touch change from light to firm, almost massaging.

"Sorry," Phoenix apologised. "Like someone walking over your grave, that. I'm just looking to see what grade clippers Rachel used on you last time. She's done a good job," a note of pride was injected into his voice. "Now, about this," he reached up, curling his finger around the stray bit of hair that always stuck out at the back and pulling gently. "Let me guess, resistant to every styling product you throw at it?"

"I gave up on that a long time ago," Miles dismissed it. "I'm quite used to angling my head for photographs so it doesn't show."

"Want rid of it?"

Miles turned to look at him.

"You can do that?" he was a little incredulous. "I went to the top salon in Los Angeles and they said I should just accept that it was indestructible."

"Oh yeah, they got that right - you can't remove a cowlick permanently. But I can cut your hair in a way that hides it. It's in an awkward kinda location, though - you picked a bad place to cut your head open."

"...What?"

"Well, it's between your crown and your occiput, it's trickier to conceal-"

"No, I'm asking where did you get the idea that I'd cut my head open?"

Miles felt his errant lock of hair being released, and two fingers rubbed the spot on the back of his head where he knew it originated from - goodness knows he'd found it enough times himself, back in the days when he'd believed that tugging on it enough would fix it up.

"You've got a scar here, on your scalp. That's why you've got a cowlick there. You can get one when you've had a cut to the head or an operation or whatever, it disrupts the growth of the hair follicles so they grow out differently."

"...Oh." Miles felt the sideways movement of the pads of Phoenix's fingers, which he presumed were tracing the scar. "But I don't remember ever having cut my head open."

"Must've happened when you were too small to remember it, then," was Phoenix's assessment. "Probably a good thing, eh?"

"I didn't even know I had a scar there." Miles was still a little nonplussed by this revelation.  
"Well, people say they can tell a lot about someone from stuff like their hands, their face and so on. But for me, it's pretty amazing what you can learn from the back of somebody's head. Guess that's why people get a bit freaked out by hairdresser intuition! Now then..." Phoenix left the cowlick alone, to target Miles' crown. "The way these hairs fall, I can hide your cowlick, but I'd have to cut your hair a bit different to what you're used to."

"Oh, no," Miles said instantly, shaking his head. "I just want the same cut, thankyou."

"Exactly the same?" Phoenix sounded a little disappointed.

"Well, why would I change it?"

"Why not? Sometimes there's nothing like a fresh new look! It can completely reinvent you!"

"I don't fancy being reinvented, thankyou."

"...How long have you had this hairstyle, then?" Phoenix hooked one finger beneath the longer of Miles' two bangs, moving it sideways so the silvery hair cascaded off it.

Miles delayed a moment in giving his answer, a little distracted by the odd sensation of that. He did that gesture all the time, even ran his hand right the way back through the bangs at times when he was tired. But it felt rather different when someone else was doing it.

"Well, I've always had it."

"Even as a kid?"

"I think so. That's the way it was in photos, at any rate."

In the mirror, Miles saw Phoenix's mouth drop open, making an 'O' of dismay.

"You've _never_ changed it? Never ever?"

"What's wrong with it?" Miles was a little indignant. "It suits me, so why do anything different with it?"

"And what about that cravat thing you wear? That too?"

"Of course I change my cravat!" Miles objected. "I have one for every day of the week!"

Phoenix sighed.

"That wasn't what I meant. Did you dress like that as a kid?"

"Well, no. My tastes are obviously more sophisticated these days."

"Then why not your hair, too? Or is it not allowed to be sophisticated?"

Miles was finding it a bit difficult to get onto the same level as this Hairdresser Logic.

"It's sophisticated already, is it not?" he asked, a little confused.

"Uh, how can I put this... no?"

Well, that was below the belt - Miles could withstand a variety of insults, but the hair was out of bounds.

"And why should your assessment concern me?" he replied heatedly. "I'm the one wearing it, so why should I be swayed by the opinions of others as to what looks good and what doesn't?"  
"Whoa, slow down there," Phoenix rested his hands gently on top of Miles' head, fingers splayed either side. "I'm just giving you an objective assessment. Yes, you're the one wearing your hair, but remember that the only time you see it is when you look at yourself in the mirror. That's your view, of your hair. The people who see you every day might be seeing something different. All I'm saying is that if you want something different, I can do that for you. It's not costing you a cent, so if you wanted to take the plunge then surely now's the time?"

Miles' earlier flash of anger was subsiding under the soft pressure of Phoenix's hands. Once, he had attended a professional spa centre and received a head massage. Although he had never gone back, deeming it somewhat frivolous, it had been rather pleasant, and this reminded him of it now.

"Can you hide the cowlick without doing anything to my fringe?" he asked.

"Yup, that's doable." Phoenix's hands moved a little, following the lie of Miles' hair, then lifting slightly to return to their original position, little strokes without mussing up the style of it. "I can just cut these edges a bit rougher, do a bit of layering, and that should sort it. It's tricky because of the location, it's between two natural angles of your head, but I reckon I can pull it off no fuss."

"I want to keep my fringe," Miles reiterated.

"Attached to that, huh?" One hand came around to catch a bang between index and middle finger, feeling the hair. "You've fine hair - it falls pretty nicely."

"Well... there's another cowlick at the front, you see. I can't really have it any other way."

"Sure you can!" Phoenix said cheerily. "Tell you what, I'll do the back first, and then you can see what you think."

"Hmm," Miles deliberated, still aware of the other hand resting on the crown of his head. "Yes... maybe."

"Yes, maybe, or maybe, yes?"

Miles shrugged.

"You can fix it if I don't like it. So I suppose you can go ahead."

"Oh, with such grace and good humour," Phoenix chuckled. "Well, that's good enough for me. I'm gonna wheel you over to the basins, alright?"

Miles felt his chair being tugged until it started to roll across the floor.

"Tilt your head back, Miles - the basin's just behind you so do it slow, I don't want you cutting your head open in here!"

"You might be making that up, actually," Miles raised one eyebrow at him as he carefully tilted his head back, tensed to meet cold ceramic but finding something soft and warm instead. Phoenix had put a warmed towel there for him to rest his neck against.

"Scout's honour, it's the truth! You've got a white scar in the shape of a half moon, which means you probably caught it against something sharp. Right, I'm gonna turn the hose on in a sec. Just lie back and think of... I dunno. Cravats or something."

"Do you make these ridiculous wisecracks to all your customers?" Miles said blandly, closing his eyes.

"Well, nobody's whacked me one for it yet, so yeah," Phoenix put the flat of his hand against Miles' forehead, slowly pulling it back so it caught his bangs and lifted them away from his face.

Miles felt the tickle of them as they brushed his face on the way up, and with the warmth of the stylist's hand on his skin he stopped furrowing his brow, enjoying the sensation of his hair being pushed gently back. This reminded him why he looked forward to his hair appointments. He did love how it felt. But Phoenix's hands were different. Rachel's were quick and businesslike, getting the hair out of the way when she needed it, whereas Phoenix took his time. It was as if he were being given the opportunity to properly appreciate the feel of it.

"You've got a lot of hair, actually. Fine, but plentiful. I wonder-" he paused.

"What?" Miles asked.

There was a gurgle as Phoenix switched on the shower hose.

"Well, people look pretty different when their hair's wet. I wonder how you'll look."

Miles had an odd sensation in his stomach as he mulled over Phoenix's comment. Nobody had ever paid such attention to these aspects of his hair before now. He felt almost pampered, and this was making his stomach flipflop in a peculiar way.

"Right, here comes the water." A warm jet was directed at his bangs, which flattened straight away under the force of the water. The pressure was high enough to be invigorating, without taking half his head off. All of Phoenix's earlier finesse vanished - his fingers were blunt points against Miles' head, massaging deeply through his hair to get the water right through it, separating the locks out. It was _wonderful_ \- Miles felt his body sag under the heavy massage, his head lolling into the basin.

"Good?" Phoenix asked. "Actually, I don't need to ask that question - that's the first smile I've seen on your face since you walked in the door. Well, I guess you could call it a smile - it's not a grimace at any rate, so I must be doing something right..."

Miles ignored his rambling - he had far more pleasant things to be concentrating on.

Phoenix washed and conditioned his hair, rubbing the conditioner in with circular movements of his fingers that pressed right in against his scalp. But it had not escaped Miles' attention that other parts of his head were being targeted that had little or no hair - his forehead, his temples; but it was incredibly relaxing, so he had no objection. He was a little disappointed when Phoenix had to wash the conditioner out, and eventually the hose was switched off.

"Right, back to the mirror! Sit up for me?" Phoenix instructed.

Miles righted himself. He was a bit slow in doing this - the hairwash-cum-head massage had left his limbs loose and floppy. As Phoenix wheeled him back towards the mirror, he asked,

"You were hitting a lot of acupressure points there. That was intentional, yes?"

"Of course," Phoenix smirked. "I like to go the extra mile for my customers. I picked it up from a Chinese guy whose hair I used to cut, so I tried it out on some of my regulars and they loved it." His hands combed down through Miles' hair, straightening it out. "Your face sure looks different without your bangs."

Miles looked at his face in the mirror. Phoenix was tucking the long, wet locks of hair behind his ears, and he appeared to be studying the mirror too. Miles did look very different.

"I don't like it," Miles frowned. "Because of this," he pointed at his forehead. "For goodness sake, I look like that..." he tried to think of the name, "Apollo Justice!"

Phoenix grinned savagely.

"That defense lawyer who's on the telly sometimes? Oh yeah." He reached up and gathered a few locks of Miles' hair, twirling them together and holding them up so they were nearly vertical, akin to the cockatiel-like hairstyle the defense attorney preferred. "Haha, not such a good look!"

"Do you mind?" Miles said sourly, glaring at the mirror. He looked utterly ridiculous. "I'm not your bloody hair model."

"Oh, don't worry - I would refuse point-blank to cut anybody's hair like that," Phoenix untwiddled the little spike he'd made and combed it back behind Miles' ear with his fingers. "God, one version of that hairstyle is enough; the world doesn't need any more than that. I suppose if nothing else the guy's kinda trademarked that hair. Nobody in their right minds would want to emulate it."

"He could do with some bangs too, you think?" Miles said dryly, and Phoenix laughed.

"Yup, I'd agree with that! Now..." he clapped his hands together. "To business!" He reached for the hair clippers, his other hand walking across the the different grades of clipper head that hung next to them. He picked one out and slotted it on. "Tilt your head forward please... more," he nudged the back of Miles' head, and Miles craned his head forward more. "Right, this won't take a sec."

Miles felt the warm flat of Phoenix's hand against the nape of his neck, pushing the longer upper hairs out of the way so he could get to the base, then the buzz of the clippers filled his ears.

"Easy does it," Phoenix murmured to himself, carefully shaving away the overgrown tufts of hair at the base of Miles' neck. The feel of the clipper combs rubbing his skin was dampened a little by the warmth of the hand still at his nape.

Phoenix moved his hand a little higher up to reveal the next area he was targeting with the clippers, framing the patch of skin with his thumb to pull the skin taut. Having finished with that, he slowly dragged his hand down and with a flick of his wrist sent a pile of shaven hairs onto the floor. He replaced his hand at the base of Miles' neck, stroking upwards to get to the next bit. The gesture made the hair on the back of Miles' neck stand on end, and he only just managed to suppress the shiver that threatened to follow. His stomach turned in upon itself again, the hairs on his arms pinpricking in a tingle racing down the length of them. Then the clippers were against his skin again and he felt himself settle. Plastic against skin he could tolerate, but Phoenix's hands were a class of their own, especially when they went against the lie of his hair like that.

"Okay, that's looking pretty symmetrical," Phoenix turned off the clippers, hung them up, and then placed his hands on either side of Miles' neck, his thumbs following the U-shaped line of closely-clipped hairs.

Miles' skin quivered beneath the touch, as the pads of Phoenix's thumbs caught against the little hairs. He glanced up, but Phoenix's face remained deadpan, professional - his earlier smirk was nowhere to be seen, making it clear that the line was drawn the minute his clippers touched a customer's head.

Phoenix now had his scissors in hand, with the long comb in the other. Miles was trusting the follicular integrity of the back of his head to this pair of hands, and he kept a beady eye on the two tools heading towards his head until they disappeared from his view in the mirror. The flat of the scissors, warm from being in the pocket against Phoenix's chest, pressed carefully against his skull to mark a place, the comb coming in from below to catch a layer of his hair. Phoenix lifted the comb up, then down a little, and Miles watched him shut one eye in the mirror, as if judging how high to take it before making a cut. There was a little tug on his hair, and then the crisp snip of the scissors, clearly well-sharpened.

And such was the rhythm - comb, cut, comb, cut. Phoenix began humming to himself as he worked his way from side to side and then up the back of Miles' head. Miles' neck was getting a bit sore from being craned forward, and he tilted it to one side to try and stretch it. Immediately scissors and comb came away from his head.

"Sore?" Phoenix asked.

There was an answering crack of the vertebrae in Miles' neck as he overstretched.

"Ouch," Miles reached behind him to rub the back of his neck, but Phoenix got there first, two fingers settling either side of the bony protrusions of his cervical spine and pressing firmly.

"Sorry about that," Phoenix apologised, rubbing his fingers up and down the length of Miles' neck before jamming his thumb on top of the vertebrae and dragging that up and down as well.

Miles grunted, craning his neck back against the motion, and something in his neck popped. That felt a lot better, and he tilted his head forward again.

"I'm nearly done - alright for another few minutes?" Phoenix asked.

"Yes," Miles replied a little absently. Phoenix's fingers were still resting on the back of his neck.

"...Right." Phoenix paused, then lifted his hand away, his fingers slowly tracing a path down Miles' neck as they left his skin.

There was definitely a sensual element to that touch, the way it lingered, and with that recognition Miles felt his face begin to flush. He tilted his head forward some more to try and hide it, looking down at the black and white tiling and the strands of his own hair that decorated it, concentrating furiously on the monochrome to try and counteract the colour spreading across his face. Did one really blush to the roots of one's hair? He didn't want Phoenix to see.

Now Phoenix's fingers moved to Miles' ears, untucking his bangs and combing them forward so they were out of the way of where he was cutting next. Then with his thumb he delicately bent the pinna of Miles' ear forward, running his index and middle fingers from the top of Miles' ear where it joined the side of his head, right down behind it to smooth the errant hairs there and get them lying flat.

"Sorry if that tickles a bit," Phoenix said, retrieving a tiny pair of scissors from his top pocket and crouching down so he was at eye level with Miles' ear.

It did more than tickle. Miles flicked his eyes sideways to look at the man, who was manoeuvering the little pair of scissors to make careful vertical snips, tidying up the bits of hair he'd been unable to get at with the clippers. Phoenix paused mid-snip, leaning back on his haunches to meet Miles' gaze. That was when he let his air of professionalism drop, just for a moment, and Miles saw the mischief that lay behind it - both in his smile and his eyes. Miles said nothing, looking away, but the tips of his ears were now bright red with embarrassed arousal, redder than his own face.

Phoenix knew exactly what he was doing, damn the man, and he was leaving it up to Miles to respond. And that, in a way, was all the worse, because he could no longer ignore it. He felt the scissors snipping away again, and that thumb was doing more than just folding his ear forward out of the way - it was also lightly stroking it, up and down. Miles could already feel his cock starting to harden in his pants - knowing this was all intentional turned him on even more than all the accidental brushing against his neck of earlier.

Phoenix leaned forward and gently blew on the back of Miles' ear, to get rid of the hairs he'd cut away. The warmth of his breath made Miles' fingers twitch, another tingle running down him to settle in his growing erection. It was no good, he would just have to give in and enjoy it for what it was. If nothing else, he would at least stop going quite so red in the face. Phoenix shuffled around to Miles' left and set about doing the other side. He took his time, and his attentions were making Miles begin to shift in his seat - his cock was hard, his pants tight, and sitting like this was beginning to get uncomfortable. And Phoenix hadn't even started on his actual bangs yet. He wasn't sure how much longer he could sit and tolerate this no-longer-subtle fondling of erogenous zones he never knew he had.

Phoenix dropped his hands, stepping back to admire his handiwork.

"I may be blowing my own trumpet when I say this, but damn, I think that's the best cowlick conceal I've done to date. See what you think, Miles," he reached across for the flat mirror that hung from the wall, taking it in both hands and moving behind Miles to show him the back.

Miles looked at the back of his head in the mirror. Phoenix had a beam on his face, pleased as punch. Miles' eyes were searching for any trace of the cowlick, but he couldn't spot it anywhere. His hair seemed to have more volume to it than it did before, as if someone had ruffled it up from underneath and then carefully combed all the top hairs down flat. He reached up and found he could actually bury the tips of his fingers in his hair, and that was when he felt the angular layers underneath, that revealed the secret of the style.

"Uh-uh!" Phoenix grabbed his hand, pulling it away. "If you fiddle with that too much the cowlick will spring back out again. You've gotta be careful how you comb it from now on, but it should stay hidden pretty well for your day to day stuff."

There was a brief silence, as Miles evaluated his new haircut - well, he looked at it and didn't hate it, but that was as far as it went, for his mind was becoming progressively preoccupied with the fact that Phoenix still had a hold of his hand, and Miles wanted to do something with that which was not even remotely related to the cutting of his hair. Phoenix moved the mirror from side to side with his free hand.

"So, you happy with that?" he asked hopefully.

"Sort of," Miles pulled Phoenix's hand, shifting in the chair so it spun to face him. "However..."

"You wanna see the whole picture, right?" Phoenix hung the mirror up. "Guess I'd better get started on your bangs, then-"

"No." Miles squeezed his hand. "My bangs no longer require your attention." He tugged, and Phoenix leaned forward, letting Miles take his hand and put it right on top of the smock where it covered his crotch, letting the stylist feel his erection beneath the sheer, slippery material.

Miles half-closed his eyes, feeling the weight of Phoenix's hand pushing against his cock, his palm sliding over it because of the smock.

"But this does," he murmured.

Phoenix paused, looking down at his hand on Miles' cock, then at Miles' face, his eyes darting between the two bangs.

"They do suit you, at that length," he admitted. "And the shape has kept pretty well. They do need re-layered, though."

"Sod my bangs. I need laid more then they do." Miles reached up, curling his fingers around to the back of Phoenix's neck, lightly touching with his fingers.

"I said 'layered', not 'laid'," Phoenix began to protest, but Miles was now stroking his neck, and he lapsed into distracted silence, leaning in a little.

"How do you like a bit of your own medicine, hm?" Miles flashed him a very lupine smile. "That's an acupressure point right there, too," he circled his finger around a particular spot, then laid his hand on Phoenix's neck and pulled him in, their eyes closing and lips sealing together.

Phoenix smelt of aftershave and hairspray. It mingled with Miles' cologne, and they inhaled each other's warmth and smell. The kiss sent Miles' mind plummeting right down into his crotch, where Phoenix's hand still lay - he could feel his erection so acutely now, and God, he wanted something done about it.

But Phoenix pulled away, breaking the kiss. He wasn't red in the face, but in his eyes there was a definite hunger.

"Give me a sec," he said quickly. "Just to shut shop."

Then his hand was gone, and he was down the stairs into the main part of the salon, switching off the lights, twirling the sign on the door around so it read closed, and flipping the latch down on the door. As he turned to come back up the stairs, Miles saw how awkwardly he negotiated them - because of the bulge of erection that interfered with his steps.

"Help me get this smock off," Miles said, holding his hands out.

"Never mind the smock, I'll help you get _everything_ off," Phoenix grinned.

"Not everything!" Miles protested. "It's cold in here! Actually, is there nowhere else we can convene to?"

"Nah, my place is miles outta town - and I bet you wouldn't've asked that if yours was anywhere nearer," Phoenix replied, undoing his smock and whipping it off with a flourish. "But check this out!" He walked across to the three big hair driers that stood against the far wall, wheeling them over one by one and plugging them in.

"Aha," Miles said, looking at them. "I see."

Phoenix switched the driers on, the warm air blasting them both and ruffling Miles' hair.

"Climate-controlled enough for you?" Phoenix winked.

"Enough until I warm up in other ways, certainly," Miles got out of the chair, relieved to finally be standing up, then ushered Phoenix over and started fiddling with the buttons on his white tunic.

"What do you do with this thing?" Phoenix seized Miles' cravat between thumb and forefinger, flapping it up and down.

"You don't do that, for a start," Miles swatted his hand away, abandoning Phoenix's tunic buttons temporarily in order to untie his cravat. "There," he laid it carefully on the chair next to him. "Now, where was I?" he returned to Phoenix's buttons, and felt fingers at those on his waistcoat. He was looking down at Phoenix’s buttons, but Phoenix bobbed down a little and came from beneath to kiss him, pulling his head back up with it so he had to unbutton by feel alone.

They stripped each other eagerly, their speed increasing as each successive layer came off - Phoenix's tunic and the tight-fitting t-shirt he wore underneath it; Miles' waistcoat and shirt, their fingers fumbling with buttons, belt buckles and zippers blindly as they kissed again and again. And then they were standing there, trousers in a heap around their ankles and their underwear the final barrier remaining - magenta and blue fabric that bulged and stretched over an erection straining to break free. There they paused to look at each other.

"Sheesh, you're even colour co-ordinated down to your underpants," Phoenix marvelled.

"...Well, you've got a hole in yours," Miles retorted, feeling his face colouring up again under Phoenix's scrutiny.

"Wouldn't be my favourite pair of pants if they didn't have a hole in them," Phoenix grinned. "Though if I'd known I was scoring a makeout session with a hot guy I maybe might've put on a newer pair. Guess you never can tell what the day's gonna throw your way!"

"You're saying that despite your complete lack of subtlety in fondling me as well as cutting my hair? I would argue premeditated, if it were me."

"What can I say?" Phoenix shrugged, an irrepressible smirk on his face. "I'm a total opportunist. And I have to say, it definitely paid off - with me on that one?"

"I hardly had much choice in the matter, did I?"

Phoenix stepped up towards him, drawing him into an embrace.

"Not that much of an onus, though, eh?" he chuckled into Miles' neck as he kissed it. "Else you wouldn't have this glorious hard-on of yours," he cupped his hand against it, pushing hard and raking his fingers up it.

Miles breathed in shakily with the motion, dipping his head down onto Phoenix's shoulder and putting his hands down to the stylist's ass, resting his hand against the firm but pleasantly rounded muscle. Phoenix 'mmphed' his agreement with that motion, his tongue whipping out to lick Miles' neck, and Miles took this as encouragement to start gently massaging Phoenix's asscheeks through his underwear. His hands cupped them so easily, as if they were meant to fit there all along.

Phoenix wiggled his hand inside Miles' magenta underpants, the wet patch on them adhering to the back of his hand as he angled his wrist to grab Miles' cock.

"Yes," Miles murmured, "now squeeze," he squeezed Phoenix's ass as if to demonstrate, and was rewarded with a gentle, all-over pressure on his shaft as Phoenix carefully tightened his grip. "Mmmm, that's the way."

"You're a big guy under the small talk," Phoenix commented, nosing Miles' ear.

"Hm? I thought I was pretty average," Miles ran his hand down to brush the inside of Phoenix's leg, and was rewarded with a little twitch of the muscle beneath his skin.

"Well, you're bigger than some," Phoenix's eyes were half-closed now as he gently moved his hand up Miles' shaft. "Ah, I do love feeling up a good-sized cock. My hand fits around yours just right."

"Believe me, you're not the only one enjoying it," Miles could feel another shot of precome flowing from the tip of his penis, and Phoenix laughed as it dribbled down and hit his hand.

"That's probably the biggest compliment you've paid me all afternoon!" he started moving his hand more rhythmically now, up, down-up, down-up. "Let's see if I can score a few more before we're done, huh?"

Miles arched into the movement, hooking one arm over Phoenix's shoulder and resting his head next to Phoenix's, his other hand moving around to Phoenix's crotch, to pull down his underwear and get the stylist's cock out. Looking down at it, Miles realised his own was perhaps slightly longer, but Phoenix's was certainly thicker, and God, was it hard - his fingers made barely an indentation against the swollen skin.

It was warm to the touch, and the skin was pliable beneath his fingers, but what lay beneath it was solid with arousal. As he played with it Phoenix made appreciative noises, and his whole cock would buck beneath Miles' touch now and again. Miles was beginning to pant now; Phoenix's well-timed strokes were a mark of experience, and Miles could feel the orgasm beginning to mount within him - but damned if he was going to let go of it just yet. No, there were other things he wanted to do, wanted more than just a wank. He took his hand away from Phoenix's cock to seize Phoenix's wrist mid-stroke, pulling his hand away.

"Sorry, was I rough?" Phoenix asked immediately, reaching up to stroke the back of Miles' head.

"Quite the contrary," Miles' reply was soft, blurred by the warmth of Phoenix's skin against his lips. He raised his head - it was an effort to straighten up after giving in so completely to having his cock pumped on like that, but he managed it nonetheless. "But I don't want to come just yet. That would mean it was over, which would be rather saddening, wouldn't you agree?"

"Er," Phoenix wasn't sure how to take this, but as Miles pushed him towards to the chair, the penny began to drop. "Oh... right...?" responding to the push, he stepped out of his trousers and climbed onto the chair, and Miles pushed him right back so it reclined.

"And besides, I feel I have been neglecting you somewhat," Miles continued, hooking his fingers into the hole in Phoenix's underpants and pulling them down. "But before I start, I hope you don't object to me taking the usual precautions," he reached across for his trousers, extracting his wallet and flipping it open to get to the back compartment.

He had to check to make sure the condom was even still in date - he'd never succumbed to opportunist solicitation like this before. Fortunately it was, and though he had a brief moment of worry that he wouldn't be able to get it over the girth of Phoenix's cock, he still managed to get it on.

"Now, allow me," he leaned forward, opened his mouth and gently put his lips around the tip of Phoenix's penis, tongue massaging its head through the crinkly latex of the condom.

"Oh God," Phoenix sighed, leaning back into the chair. "I haven't had that done to me in so long..." as Miles took it in deeper he descended into little croons of happy ecstasy.

Miles had one hand braced against the arm of the chair, but he had the other hand free and laid this against Phoenix's testicles, cupping them carefully in his palm.

"Shit yes, that is gooood," Phoenix managed most of the sentence before dropping down into another moan - Miles had sucked, pushing his tongue against the sensitive little ridge at the head of Phoenix's cock.

Miles was getting into the swing of it now, leaving Phoenix’s balls alone to start rubbing on his shaft, and he was thoroughly enjoying the noises Phoenix was making in response. Phoenix's legs were twitching, Miles could feel his feet wriggling and pressing against his legs as he bent over the stylist and sucked him off.

"Miles... Miles, stop," Phoenix's hand came up and gripped his arm. "If you keep going like that..."

"You'll keep making those most entertaining noises?" Miles said around the cock in his mouth.

"Oh, funny haha... nnnhh," Phoenix's fingers dug into Miles' arm as Miles sucked a little harder. "No, I'm serious! I am this close... so stop."

"Oh. Shame," Miles grasped the base of Phoenix's cock with his thumb and middle finger, squeezing it a little as he took his mouth away. "Neither of us are very restrained, hm?"

"Well... it's been a while. And you too, right?" There was sweat pouring down Phoenix’s face now.

Miles nodded, straightening up. His back complained, and he arched backwards, lacing his fingers together behind him to stretch. As he did so, his erection thrust out towards Phoenix.

"Very inviting," Phoenix grinned.

"I've only got one condom," Miles stopped stretching, reaching one hand out to grab Phoenix's erection again. It was still rock-hard, resisting his attempts to pull it forward, so he settled for resting his hand on it and rubbing it instead. "I take it you don't have any?"

"...No," Phoenix reached behind him to pull the lever that righted the chair. "Sorry."  
"Liar. You're as bad as a witness in testimony there, looking off to one side like that."

"Uhh," Phoenix looked guilty, guilty, guilty.

"You normally top, don't you?"

"I... do, yes," Phoenix admitted.

"And have you looked at the width of your cock recently? Compare it to mine - you're large, to say the least."

Phoenix looked down. "Oh... I suppose I make up for a lack of length, huh?"

"In other words, I'm topping, and you're going to go and get another condom, yes?"

"Well," Phoenix stalled.

"Who's the customer here?"

"Ah... touché," Phoenix conceded. "I could argue that you started it by getting me to feel you up, but I know what you'd come back with so I guess I don't have a leg to stand on."

He pulled the condom off his penis, depositing it in the bin on top of a pile of hair clippings that were a veritable rainbow of different blondes, brunettes, pinks and blues. He slipped off the chair and retrieved his own wallet from his trousers.

"Here y'are," he handed the condom packet to Miles. "And use this as well, unless you'd actually like to hear my cries of pain..." he paused, looking down at the tub of Vaseline he'd picked up from the table. "Wait, doesn't this stuff dissolve latex?"

"I believe it does," Miles replied. "You've nothing else handy?"

Phoenix looked across at him, his eyes showing his indecision. His erection stood tall and his cheeks were flushed with arousal.

"You can trust me," Miles replied. "I've had one previous partner, and they were clean, I promise you that."

Phoenix thrust the Vaseline towards him.

"My gut feeling tells me to believe you," he said. "And the rest of me just wants to orgasm and doesn't actually give a shit - so I guess that's good enough for me. Though I dunno why you bothered with the condom before if you're just gonna do me without one now."

Miles slathered the Vaseline all over his cock - it was _cold_ , though the warm air blasting from the hair driers soon rectified that.

"That moment of indecision you had there tells me you're clean too," he replied. He put the Vaseline tub on the side, then took Phoenix by the shoulder. "Ready?" he asked.

"I hope you know what VIP treatment you're getting here," Phoenix said as he braced his hands against the countertop, presenting his rear for Miles' delectation. "You'd better come back again after all this."

"Depends how good a bottom you are," Miles raised one eyebrow at him in the mirror, a hint of a smile on his face.

"Oh, shut up and fuck me already," Phoenix retorted.

"Getting impatient now, are we?" Miles held up one Vaseline-smeared index finger in the mirror, to let him know what was coming next.

He was deft - index, then middle finger, probing in and out carefully to widen the hole. Phoenix was making faces in the mirror, and when Miles could tell he had gotten used to the feel of the fingers, he carefully introduced his ring finger. Phoenix winced, and Miles could feel the tightness around his fingers. He was slow this time, just keeping his hand still while applying a slight pressure to get a bit further in.

"Okay?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Right," Miles removed his fingers. "Bob down a bit, you're a little high."

Phoenix squatted down slightly, and Miles put his hands on the stylist's hips, stroking the jut of the hip bone on each side with his fingers.

"Here I go."

He pressed his cock against the mouth of Phoenix's anus, his foreskin pushed back straight away by the tightness of the entrance. Not to be deterred, he placed his hands on the cheeks now cushioning his erection and applied steady pressure to spread them apart. They were tense to his touch, and although Phoenix bent forwards to try and make it easier, Miles could see his pain in the mirror as he pushed. So he paused, about to ask-

"Don't stop," Phoenix replied, his voice a little strained. "Just get it in already - push."

"Very well," Miles knew it was probably the right thing to do, although that didn't make it any kinder. So he grabbed Phoenix's hips and did as he was told.

Phoenix, to his credit, didn't cry out. Miles saw him grit his teeth, shut one eye and put his head right down, but he bore through. His shaky exhalation signalled that the pain barrier had been broken, and Miles reached around to caress his erection by way of apology. It was still very hard.

"How does it feel?" Phoenix asked, after a moment.

"Good enough to be beyond waxing lyrical about it. You?"

"Do I need to answer that?" Phoenix pointed at the mirror. "That told you everything, I reckon."

"Now, I'll be watching this mirror carefully while I'm getting you to answer my next question." Miles drew back a little, his cock withdrawing by an inch, then he pushed it back in again. And again. And again. "Are you enjoying this now?"

Phoenix's fingers were splayed across the table, but with Miles' thrusting they drew up, curled around into claws. Phoenix grunted, teeth still gritted, but within a few moments of this he lifted his head to show his reddened face, his grimace relaxing into a slackjawed loll, to match the glazed look coming into his blue eyes, his attention clearly on the cock in his ass that stroked his prostate with every re-entry. Pain was being eclipsed by pleasure now - he dropped his head again, breathing harder.

Phoenix's passage was tight. It hugged Miles' cock close and he was loving the feel of it as he slid in and out. He wanted to go faster, but at this speed Phoenix was enjoying it too, so he took his time and tried to be gentle for now. As it was he could feel that little twitch of excitement building up within his cock, an orgasm faster in the making thanks to Phoenix’s ministrations from before. However, he was determined to hold out, to come together with his lover.

“That’s… starting to… feel …” Phoenix never finished that sentence because Miles had reached forward to start masturbating Phoenix from the front, raising his eyebrows in question.

Phoenix nodded at him in the mirror, a hand shooting down to cover his own, jogging it to try and get it to go faster. But this wasn’t enough to distract Miles from what was happening at his end – the tremor of impending climax was starting to get a hold of him, right down to his cock pumping away in Phoenix’s rear. His other shaky hand slipped off Phoenix’s hip and he leaned forward, resting his head on Phoenix's back.

"Faster?" he asked.

"Yeah," the reply was more a pant than a word.

“Oh, thank God,” Miles grabbed him around the waist and started push-pulling to get into the faster rhythm.

He didn’t have to do that for long, for Phoenix was moving with him now, his upper arms were powerful from years of holding up clippers, scissors, mirrors and goodness knows what else, and they acted as shock absorbers to take the impact of Miles' thrusting while giving him a little push back on the way out.

"You close?" Miles wasn't sure how much longer he could hold out, now - with his cock this swollen inside Phoenix the tight fit was sending him riding to the very edge of his orgasm again and again. He would surely tip over that soon, but God, he didn't want it to end.

Phoenix couldn't even reply to his question. Miles could feel the stylist’s sweaty hips bucking beneath his hands, and his fingernails scratched against the countertop as his hands clenched and unclenched. He was collapsing into the counter now, his legs giving way beneath him and his head pressing against the surface. Miles went down with him, still pumping away at the back, his arms circling around Phoenix's middle and pulling him into a tight embrace as they fucked.

"You're coming," Miles gasped, feeling his cock being abruptly squeezed tight.

"Fuck _yes_!" Phoenix straightened up, pushing against the counter and craning right back into the pleasure of it, and Miles felt a wonderful, wonderful wave of contractions running up and down his cock that tipped him, at last, into the sea of his own orgasm. He let himself go, hugging Phoenix hard as he came, thrusting and spurting inside him and panting into his sweat-soaked back.

They were rigid momentarily, pressing into each other as each was seized by the moment, that few seconds where they could feel each other throbbing simultaneously. And then, they sagged, Phoenix letting go of the countertop altogether - they fell to their knees, completely spent.

"Sheesh," Phoenix wiped the sweat off his forehead. "Being on bottom’s a totally different thing. Totally different."

"But not in a bad way, would you agree?" Edgeworth reached up to touch his hair, curious fingers taking a sweat-limp spike and twiddling it between thumb and forefinger. There was still some styling wax on it, so it felt a bit odd to the touch.

"Yeah... but bloody hell is it sore to start with."

"It is, though as you can testify, it's a discomfort worth weathering. You coped better than I anticipated," Miles replied, separating locks of hair out of the spike with his fingers.

"Mmm," Phoenix murmured, aware of the attentions. He reached down, putting his hands over the one resting across his tummy. "That feels nice," he stroked Miles' fingers, taking the slender digits and massaging them gently.

It was rather relaxing for Miles too, even though it was someone else's hair he was playing with. Phoenix kept his hair in excellent condition; there wasn't a split end or tangle to be seen. His sated cock was starting to deflate inside Phoenix's anal passage, but he paid it no mind just now - he was still basking in an afterglow. "As your customer, I must confess that I have little cause for complaint."

"Even for your haircut?"

"I suppose it looked acceptable," he reached up to push his bangs back out of his eyes, then felt at the sides for any stray locks. "It seems to have held its style well throughout our activities so I believe it passes muster." Even the cowlick at the back was still hidden; or at least, he couldn't feel it - with the amount of sweat in his hair it could well be soaked flat like the rest, which probably accounted for why it had all behaved itself.

"Wow, high praise indeed!" Phoenix laughed. "Though hey, I think you could do with another wash and blowdry after that. Can't let you leave looking like you've run a marathon, now - that wouldn't be good for business."

"I would hardly be running a marathon in the nude," Miles said blithely, but he was certainly not averse to the idea of another thorough head massage.

He carefully pulled his cock out of Phoenix's ass, making a bit of a face at the smears that were on it - though that was one of the occupational hazards of a spontaneous sexual encounter, and the need for a quick cleanup was certainly a small price to pay for how _good_ it had been. Phoenix obligingly provided him with some of the paper towelling from the dispenser in the corner - he had a bit of cleaning up to do as well, though he headed out to the staff toilet for this. By the time he returned fully clothed, Miles had brushed off all the hair clippings that had stuck themselves to his knees and the soles of his feet, and was just pulling his trousers back on.

“Now, I promised you a wash, didn’t I?” Phoenix picked up the abandoned smock from the floor, shaking it out. “Honestly, you’ve scored so many freebies today – I would’ve made over a hundred bucks if I’d charged you for any of this.”

“What, just for the wash, cut and dry?!” Edgeworth exclaimed.

“Well, you pay for quality! And _personal_ attention from the head stylist,” Phoenix flipped back an errant, floppy spike from his eyes with a flourish.

“Jesus,” Miles shook his head as he let Phoenix put the smock on him. “Why anyone would pay an extra forty dollars to have you in charge of their hair, I really don’t know.”

“Oh, you wound me so!” Phoenix mock-swooned. “Really, I think Rachel should’ve charged you extra for putting up with your sarcasm.”

“Well, admittedly we… didn’t really talk like this.”

“Oh, so you’re only mean to me? I see how it is,” Phoenix combed his hair deftly, then wheeled him over to the basin. He was slow and careful with his walking, clearly still a little sore from earlier.

“I feel it necessary to give as good as I get when the occasion warrants it,” Miles said loftily, closing his eyes and leaning back to submit to Phoenix’s ministrations.

Phoenix was a little more gentle with his fingers this time but still just as thorough, and now all pretence of decorum had been discarded he made certain to target Miles’ face with his massaging as well as his scalp. Once done, he wheeled Miles back to the mirror.

"Want me to layer those bangs now you've laid me?" Phoenix chuckled, moving gingerly to stand behind him and gather his bangs forward.

Miles shrugged.

"If you so desire," he replied. "I get the impression you hate to see a job unfinished."

"Well, that's Phoenix Cuts - we do the job and we do it well!" Phoenix had his scissors at the ready and this time he was swift and professional - within five minutes a cascade of silver hair had drifted down onto the tiles and Miles' bangs were neat and tidy, framing the curve of his face instead of cutting off the sides of it.

Phoenix wheeled over one of the driers and positioned it over Miles' head, meticulously combing his hair under the warm blast of air.

"And we're done!" he switched off the drier and pushed it to one side, combing everything into place. He picked up the handheld mirror one last time, to show Miles the back, and the lack of cowlick. "Now tell me, what's the final verdict?"

Miles looked at it critically. Well, actually, he just looked at it. It was a haircut, simple as that. It worked, it suited him, it'd be easy to manage. That was all he needed, really. However, he had one final request.

"Do I need an appointment next time? Or can I just walk in?"

Phoenix lowered the handheld mirror, looking at Miles and spotting the little half-smile creeping across the prosecutor's face.

"I can tell," Phoenix replied with a grin, "that you're going to be very bad for my business."

"Only your professional business. Personal business, on the other hand - why, I believe I'd be very good for that."

"Can't argue with that," Phoenix pocketed his scissors, taking Miles by the hand and helping him get out of his smock. "Right, then. For your cut, I'll make you an appointment in six weeks, and for the rest, I'll give you my house address - no appointment required. Fair deal?"

"You're very good at making offers that are difficult to refuse, you know."

"Nah - I'll just do anything to fill the appointments book," Phoenix winked. "You'll recommend us to your friends, right?"

"For what - haircuts, or sex?" Miles went to the coat rack and retrieved his mackintosh.

"Just the haircuts. I only offer sexual favours to the grumpiest clients."

"Oh, be quiet," Miles flapped the sleeve of his mackintosh in Phoenix's general direction. "I was just taken aback to find that my usual stylist had been usurped by this spiky-haired, bad joke-making upstart. I have been sufficiently comforted in my loss, now, so I suppose I can forgive you."

"I should hope so! You sure took some comforting. Now do show your appreciation by booking your next appointment," Phoenix had the book ready. "Same time again?"

"Suits me," Miles nodded, and Phoenix had his name scribbled down in a trice.

"And you're booked!" Phoenix declared triumphantly, shutting the book with a snap.

"Are you _that_ desperate for clients?" Miles raised one eyebrow.

"Nah," Phoenix put the book back on the table. "It was just a moral victory, that was all." He looked pleased with himself. "I won you over!"

Miles sighed, then rolled his eyes.

"Whatever you want to call it - little things, and all the rest."

"Ah, but the little things are part of the big thing, right?" Phoenix pointed out. "Now I've got you, I've gotta keep you, haven't I?" he fished out his keys and grabbed his own coat. "Right then, gimme a lift home and then you’ll know how to get to my house. Heck, you can stay over! "

"What, now?!" Miles exclaimed.

"Sure, no time like the present!" Phoenix took him by the arm, and they walked out of the salon together. "Call it aftercare. Gotta make sure you look after this cut of yours, after all."

"That is the thinnest excuse for a second round I've ever heard."

"Oh well, I tried. Besides, you're not exactly running away, are you?"

"No, but-"

"Ah, you said no! That's the only answer I need."

"I said but!"

"What, my butt?"

"You know that's not what I meant!"

And so they bickered, all the way back to Phoenix's apartment.  


**Author's Note:**

>  **Illustration:** [Cowlick](http://cannedebonbon.deviantart.com/art/PW-Cowlick-149232154) by [](http://cannedebonbon.livejournal.com/profile)[**cannedebonbon**](http://cannedebonbon.livejournal.com/)


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